Wild Wild West 1. Deadly Denis Strikes

**The Wild Wild West**

_Night of the Late Artemus_

Chapter 1: Deadly Denis Strikes

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.**

"Martin, Ross Martin, I'm a doctor." Artie introduced.

"And him?" The clerk motioned to the sickly looking man beside him.

"Conrad, he's my patient."

The clerk eyed them suspiciously, then waved his hand dismissively. "I'm sorry, but I can't risk having sickness spread through my hotel. You'll have to find somewhere else to stay. "

"Okay, thanks."Artie grumbled halfheartedly, casting a sidelong glance at his "patient". Jim sighed.

Artie and the clerk shook hands and Jim held out his hand as well, but Artie slapped it back down before the clerk could notice, shooting him a meaningful look. The two partners stammered out onto the street. Artie shook his head at the ground.

"Well that went well." He grumbled. "Maybe this disguise wasn't the best idea after all. Maybe we should just drop this disguise, though, I guess we can't since we've already spent a day around town this way. If we change it now, I'll only give us away."Artie sighed. "Seems like well never find this _Deadly Denis_ fellow after all, or a place to stay the night for that matter."

Jim mimicked his sigh.

Artie suddenly turned accusingly to his friend. "And what was with the hand shake?! You were supposed to have diphtheria! No wonder you never made it into theater!"

Jim chuckled.

"Could have thrown in a few coughs here and there too to make it a little more authentic." He added, no more than a mumble.

"We'll next time I'll leave the bigger roles for you." Jim grinned.

"Thanks" Artie replied blandly, studying the street from end to end.

"Artie?"

"Yah, Jim?"

"Why diphtheria? Isn't that...?"

"Ridiculous? Yes. But hey, it was a last minute decision, I had to say something." Artie shrugged. He leaned against a supporting pole on the wooden inn porch, then looked questioningly over at his partner. "Jim, refresh my memory, why on earth are we here? What is this deadly dentist fellow after anyhow?"

"Deadly Denis." Jim corrected, then he bit the side of his lip. He hadn't told Artie yet for fear of worrying him. But in the end he decided it would be best just to tell him up front.

"You."

"You're joking." Artie blinked. "Boy, this just keeps getting better and better doesn't it?" He said sarcastically. "Why?"

"We don't know." Jim sighed.

"So you brought me on the case?"

"Deadly Denis is very dangerous, and clever. Even worse he knows about our train. I figured the safest place for you was we're I could keep an eye on you."

"That makes sense." Artie agreed. "I think..."

Artie took off his dusty hat and ran his sleeve across his brow. "So now what?" He panted, the heat was nearly unbearable; the day was humid and very hot.

Jim sighed. "Well, I guess there's nothing more we can do like this. We'll have to leave town, stay the night on the train and come back tomorrow."

"agreed."

...

Back at their private railroad car, Jim West and Artemus Gordon sat in silence. Both deep in thought. Artie took off his tan smoking jacket and laid it out on the desk chair, taking off his hat and fanning his face with it. It was only 10:00 AM of the following morning, but already it had reached nearly unbearable temperatures. Artie glanced around quiet car, his eyes resting upon a pitcher of cool sparkling water. He licked his lips.

"Wanna drink?" Artie offered, breaking the silence. Jim nodded his head, not moving out of his 'in deep thought' position of sitting with his chin resting in his up-turned hand and squinty look on his look Artie knew all too well. Artie poured him some water from the water pitcher and handed it to him.

"Thanks."

"Where should we look now? It's not like he's just gonna show up on our door step." Artie asked, taking a well needed sip of water.

"We'll, we checked the Horseshoe hotel, the bar, that old shack outside of town and the Gun Barrel inn. No one seemed to recognize the drawing of Denis, so he probably isn't in town, unless he's disguised, but I don't think..." Jim paused, realizing Artie wasn't listening but rather standing rigidly as if listening for something.

"What is it, Artie?" Jim asked frowning. "Did you hear something? What did it sound like?" Jim questioned.

"Like, well, a bird." Artie explained, moving a curtain away from the nearest window and peaking out.

"An Indian?" Jim suggested.

"Perhaps..." Artie pulled out his gun and cocked it. "Keep thinking, I'll just go and check."

"You want me to come with you?" Jim offered starting to get up.

"No, no. Sit down!" Artie fussed. "Sit and drink your water! You wanna get dehydrated?!"

Jim chuckled and sat down obediently. He kept a close eye on his friend as he left the car, listening intently when he was no longer in view as he closed the door behind him. He knew it took a lot for one small noise to concern Artie so much and he wanted to be sure everything was alright. After a moment of silence, he shrugged and continued to sip his water.

"JIM!"Jim jumped at the exasperated yell, which was obviously a cry for help. Jim felt his heart stop as he heard a strangled cry come from the end of the car. Jim dropped his cup in horror. "Artie? Artie?!" He ran to the door, pistol drawn and cocked. Swinging the door open with a rush of adrenaline, he froze. "Artie!" He gasped. He couldn't believe the horrible sight before his eyes. Artie lay on his back, Unmoving, blood quickly staining his white shirt, but the worst was the throwing knife that protruded from his mid-shoulder. Jim cringed at the sight of it. He dropped to his knees beside his friend, quickly looking around for any sign of the attacker, but their was no one to be seen. Jim looked back down at Artie.

"Artie. Artie!" No reaction. Jim looked down at the knife. Who had done this to his friend. Whoever it was had to pay, and pay hard. Carved initials on the knifes handle caught Jim's eye.

DD...Deadly Denis.

He had to get Artie to the hospital, and fast. Artie's breathing was very labored and rugged and he was loosing way to much blood. A change in Artie's breathing startled Jim and he pressed his fingers to his friends neck. Is pulse was hard to find and when he found it, it was way too weak. "Artie, hold on!" Jim said, trying to hide the fear that stained his voice. "Artie, stay with me." Jim quickly, but gently, slid his arm behind his friend, propping him up so he could move him inside. Jim cringed as a pained moan that came from his friend.  
"Artie, can you hear me?" Jim croaked, seeing the grimace on his friends face and feeling his breathing quicken under Jim's supporting arms.

"Jim?" Artie croaked, barely reaching a whisper as he looked up at his friend through blurry eyes.

"I'm here, Artie. Stay awake." Jim instructed, trying to hide the fear that stained his voice. Artie winced as Jim tried to move him.

"Jim... I...I can't..." Artie moaned trying to ketch his breath.

"No, no. You can, you can." Jim cut in, stammering. Quickly trying to pick him up again.

"Jim..." Artie pressed hoarsely. "Jim!..."

His friend stopped at the second time as Artie started coughing weakly. "Jim... It's... No use..." Artie pressed, gasping for air as he suddenly found it harder to breath.

"Artie, no, no, Artie!" Jim exclaimed, scared as his friends eyes began to close and his breathing slowed down dangerously. "Artie, Its ok. Everything's going to be alright, buddy. Just hold on. Don't give in!" Jim begged. Tears began to swell up in Jim's eyes as Artie moved to grab his arm reassuringly.

"Jim... Promise... Promise me you'll...Hold up the.. fort..." Artie's struggling sentence faded to an end as his head lulled to the side and Jim felt his tense form slacken. His grip on Jim's arm loosened and his hand slid and dropped to the floor beside him. Jim's breath got caught in his throat and his face paled in pure horror. Tears streamed freely down his face as he looked down at his friend, who lay motionless in his arms, not even the slight rise and fall of the chest to indicate breathing was visible.

"Artie?...Oh, Artie..."

**Well, here's my first chapter! Please R&R. Oh, Artie... **


	2. The Funeral

The** Wild Wild West**

_Night of the Late Artemus_

Chapter 2: The Funeral

Rain poured as the funeral came to a close. Jim buried his head in his hands as more tears threatened to pour freely from his eyes. "Oh, Artie.." He moaned, a tear running down his cheek, the horrid memory of that mornings tragedy still played over an over in his mind. It had been a small funeral, and not many people had shone up, since hardly no one in the town or in the surrounding towns even knew them. The few people who attended started to stream solemnly out the back church doors, a few placing sympathetic hands on Jim's shoulder as they passed. One in particular stayed longer and Jim raised his head to see who it was.

"I'm so sorry, West. He was a good agent." Richardson sympathized. "I'm sorry it had to end that way."

"It's nothing you did, Richardson." Jim replied, wiping away the tears that had strayed from his eyes. "Fate played its course. Nothing more."

"Do you know who did it?" Richardson asked, sitting down next to Jim, who sat forward on the pew, wringing his hands.

Jim sighed.

"No. There were no leads. Artie couldn't tell me. I had been too late." Jim cupped his head in his hands once more as more tears threatened to run free.

"I,m so sorry, James." Was all Richardson could think of saying. He patted Jim on the back, then got up and left, leaving Jim alone in the church, staring sadly at the casket in front of him. He was alone, or so it had seemed. Jim watched from the corner of his eye as a lanky figure stood and slunk out the back door.

"I'll get him Artie." Jim said to the casket before him. "He has to pay for what he's done."

Jim got up and stood beside the window next to the door, following the mysterious man with his eyes. Minding to keep his distance, Jim slipped out the church door, stealthily pursuing the man who he knew was going to report to that one man he wanted to see the most. Deadly Denis.

The rain poured down from the sky, drenching the secret service agent and turning the dirt streets into mud. James West followed the man from a distance, passing several mulling citizens with umbrellas, watching as the scraggly man turn down a dark alley. The faintly lit alley led down between a dark morgue and an old broken down far, which has a smashed window and a loose hanging swing door which hung raggedly by one hinge. Boards were nailed to all the openings, allowing no one to enter.

James West slunk stealthily around the corner of the morgue, but stopped in his tracks, startled to see the alley empty. Jim glanced around, studying the dark passage before taking his next step, pistol drawn and cocked. There was no sign of the man, which was becoming unnerving to the secret service agent in the dank silence of the alley. He paused and listened, but couldn't hear anything odd over the sound of rain hitting the ground and carriages rumbling and splashing down the nearby street.

Taking cautious steps forward, Jim slid his hand searchingly over the edifice blocking the end of the narrow alleyway, making it apparent that it was indeed a dead end. It was a brick wall, and seeing no other way the man could have escaped, concluded that there must have been a hidden passage somewhere. His hands roved the worn bricks,searching for a door or secret entrance. Jim was startled when one of the bricks slid inward at his touch. A sudden mechanical click beneath him made Jim stand erect.

Suddenly the ground beneath him gave way and he plunged downwards. Thinking fast as the ground collapsed, Jim pulled in his arms and elbows as he landed with a thud and slid down a mining shaft. The wind got knocked out of his lungs as he landed on his back on a cold, hard concrete floor. Catching his breath his propped himself up with a wince, taking in the darkness of his surroundings. It seemed to be the basement of a building, but it appeared to be empty, save an abundance of dust webs and all seemed quiet.

A chill ran up Jim's spine at the low throaty cackle that came from behind him. Jim's head snapped to look over his shoulder, and he quickly scrambled to his feet. A tall figure stood ominously in the shadows, the silhouette watching the secret service agent with an evil look of amusement.

Jim stood, his gun cocked and leveled with the shadowed figure.

"Denis, I presume?" Jim asked in his usual unaffected tone. Though inside he was growing nervous.

The shadow grinned, his teeth becoming alight as they reflected the light that filtered in from above, where the trap door still lay open. The man cackled again, taking a long striding step into the light.

"James west," The man grinned. "How good of you to drop it. We weren't expecting you." The tall man had a scar on his right cheek and wore the fancy attire of a shiny green smoking jacket over a yellow under shirt. Jim watched as the man raised his right hand, snapping his fingers. Jim noted the broken shackle that bound his wrist. At the snap of his fingers, another figure stepped from the shadows. Jim glared at the man he had been following. The man Jim assumed was Denis continued. "I was told you hadn't found any leads. Apparently our spy was wrong." He shot a meaningful glance at the spy and he shrunk back, a look of fear eminent of his features.

Jim looked questioningly at the tall man. "Our?" He questioned.

The man ignored his question, continuing casually. "What a shame it would have been if you hadn't fallen for my little trap. It also would have been very unbecoming of you not to notice such an obvious clue. But I am amazed. Amazed at how gullible you really are, Mr West. Falling into my trap like this. It completely goes against all I have heard of "The Great James West". But tell me, are you hear to arrest me, or perhaps is it more, how should I say, more...personal." He grinned and eagerly leaned foreword to look Jim in the eye.

"Tell me Mr. West, was his death slow and painful, or was it fast and instant. I really must know."

At that Jim lunged forward to punch the man but a rifle point stopped him. Jim twisted to see three more henchmen behind him all handling guns. Denis grinned, chuckling as he studied the secret service agents expression.

"I see." He stated plainly, maintaining his unnerving grin. Denis spun around, lifting his hands as his grin widened, laughing victoriously.

"What a glorious day it is for us." The man said turning as if to talk to someone, but no one was there. "We have taken our revenge!" Denis yelled.

"Artemus Gordon is Dead." He grinned evilly, accentuating the word 'dead' with much pleasure. "Now my friend," he turned, staring at the man only he could see. "We shall move on. Deadly Denis has made his move and has succeeded!"

_'This man is a nut_' Jim thought watching the disturbing scene unravel.

"He must plan his next move. Yes, he, the new and improved, will dispose of this muddling James West!"

'_New and improved?_' Jim repeated thoughtfully. '_If he's the new and improved, is Denis really his name or has he changed his title? Who is he really? If I ever get out of this, Ill have to ask Arti..._'

Before Jim could finish his thought, the crazed man before him presented a long sharp throwing knife from a hidden sheath by his side and advanced toward the agent. Thinking fast, Jim whirled around, grabbed the rifle point that had been against his back, seized the gunman and spun him around. A strangled cry emanated from the man and he went limp in Jim's arms. Jim let go of him, letting him slump to the floor, the curved knife protruding from his back. Jim quickly reached down and picked up the man's rife, swinging it around behind him just in time to clobber an advancing henchman. A pair of strong hands came up from behind Jim, grabbing his throat as he turned around. Jim struggled against the man's air-blocking grip, giving the man a swift kick in his upper midsection. The mans grip released as he slump to the ground trying to regain his breath.

Jim looked behind him. Denis was gone. '_The coward must have retreated_.' Jim looked up at the mine shaft, weighing his options. The man behind him began to moan as he started to regain his senses. The man propped himself up on his elbow, gingerly holding the side of his aching head. He looked around as his blurred vision began to clear. He cursed under his breath, realizing that the secret service agent had escaped.

Jim pulled himself back up through the trapped door. He stood and dusted himself off casually. The rain seemed to be subsiding and he was concerned for his friend, the horrid memory of the previous morning being still fresh in his mind. He walked out of the dark alley, stopping to watch as the trap door behind him closed, then walked down the main road. The hospital was just around the corner and Jim wanted to see how his friend and partner was fairing. "I'm coming Artie." Jim smiled.

**Hey! I'm back from vacation! Well, hope you enjoyed the chapter! It was a long time coming, but here it is. Hope you enjoyed. Please keep in mind that this is my first fanfic. **


	3. Visiting Artie

**The Wild Wild West**

_The Night of the Late Artemus_

Chapter 3: Visiting Artie

**I apologize for the long delay. I now go to a private school for just this year and due to now having homework, my stories will be coming in more slowly. But anyhow, I hope you enjoy!**

"I'm here to see Ross Martin." Jim replied, fiddling with his wide-brimmed hat.

The blonde nurse was quite pretty, but Jim's mind was too preoccupied to take any notice of her dreamy appearance. She looked up at Jim, her bright eyes suddenly wide.

"Oh!'' She exclaimed in realization, then she glanced around before leaning forward and whispering, "Mr. West, you're the secret service agent I was informed about aren't you?"

Jim nodded.

"We did as you instructed, Mr. West. Only me and Dr. Hardingson know about Mr. Martin." The blond cocked her head. "Mr. West, why is this man such a big secret? Is he a secret agent, too?"

"Not to interrupt, ma'am," Jim budded in, not wanting to waste time. "But I would like very much to see Mr. Martin."

The woman straitened, an almost insulted look on her face. She sat back down and started to scan down the list of patients, moving her gaze to the right to scan down the eye-crossing list of room numbers. She stopped halfway down.

"Mr. Ross Martin?"

Jim nodded.

"Second floor, room number fifty-seven. It's the first door on your right down the left hall. It's easy to find."

Jim nodded in response. "Thank you, Ma'am."

Jim turned and walked down a series of hallways, coming to the stairs that led up to the second story. As he walked down the following hall, counting the room numbers, a doctor spotted him and walked up to greet him. Jim recognized him; Doctor Hardingson, the man who had helped him get a near-to-death secret service agent into the hospital only that morning.

"How is he?" Jim asked, before the doctor had a chance to greet him.

The doctor sighed. "He's lost a lot of blood; that knife wound was deep and was a close call. Only a few inches over and your friend would not be with us right now. But I'm afraid he most likely wont be leaving here any time soon..."

Jim sighed silently. _Oh, Artie's going to love that._

"The good news is that he'll make a full recovery; as long as he stays off his feet. As for the moment, he's unconscious; he has been since you brought him in this morning, although he sort of woke up once, but a dose of anesthetic knocked him right out again."

Jim looked longingly over at the door of Artie's room. "May I see him?"

The doctor smiled. "Yes, you may. I can't guarantee that he'll be awake, thought the medicine should be wearing off pretty soon."

Jim turned to the hospital door, turning the nob and opening it quietly.

Artie was a ghastly sight. He was as pale as the hospital pillow he lay on and blood stained the bandages wrapped around his left shoulder and chest.

He was still unconscious; laying motionless on the bed. Jim stepped in, sidestepping and wringing his hat as the doctor walked passed him to the bedside, checking Artie's pulse.

"Pulse is still fast and weak." The doc mumbled. Jim gave the doctor a worried look. The doc smiled. "It's to be expected. His heart is just trying to make up for the blood loss."

Jim relaxed a little.

"I must make my rounds to other patients now, Mr. Conrad. You may stay and visit your friend. If you need me, call an orderly. He'll alert me and I'll come as soon as I can."

"Thanks, doc." Jim acknowledged.

The doc gave a nodding response, then turned and left the room; shutting the door behind him.

Jim looked down at Artemus, then sighed wearily. He glanced around the room, spotting a chair and pulling it up beside the hospital bed.

He sat down and leaned forward over the side of the bed. "Artie?" He whispered. No response.

Jim sat back, setting his hat down on the table next to him.

Time passed and still Artie made no sound. Jim occupied himself by reading a philosophy book he had found in the drawer of the table, but soon closed it out of boredom. After what seemed like hours, Jim was suddenly snapped out of a state of absently-staring-into-space by an abrupt groan.

Jim leaned forward anxiously. "Artie?''

Artemus groaned again tossing his head to the side.

"Artie?" Jim gently shook his good shoulder.

Artie's eyes tightened into a cringe of pain, then relaxed; flickering partway open. He stared up at his partner for a moment then furowed his eyebrows.

"Jim?" He croaked. "wha...?" He stopped, wincing.

"Take it easy, Artie." Jim said.

Artie reopened his eyes, looking up at Jim. Jim was surprised when he suddenly grinned ear-to-ear like a Cheshire cat.

"what?"

"You should have seen your face!" Artie mused, attempting to laugh and failing miserably. He winced again.

"Yah... Hardy har har... You scared me half to death with that little dying act of yours!"

"Dying act!" Artie exclaimed, lifting his eyebrows like an accused man. "Jim, that was not all made up you know! Though... naturally, I did throw in a little dramaticness..." Artie added.

"A.K.A: Dying act." Jim jabbed playfully.

"Well, I had to do something in case _Mr. Deadly Dentist_ was watching." Artie retorted.

"Denis..." Jim mumbled, holding back a grin.

"Yeah, yeah..." Artie rolled his eyes. "Anyhow, he wanted me dead, right? So why not help him out?"

"Artie," Jim said with mock admiration. "Even on your death bed, you manage to maintain your brains."

"Yeah, and even when shaking on your knees, you maintain your bronze." Artie mumbled back. "You practically fractured my ribs clutching my 'corpse' this morning!"

Jim laughed.

"So," Artie began when Jim had finished. "What have you found in my absence?"

Jim quickly turned serious. "Well, Artie, after your funeral..."

"Funeral!" Artie exclaimed, mindful not to hurt himself. "I hope it was at least a descent one." He mumbled, glancing up at his partner.

"...After the funeral," Jim continued, ignoring Artie's questioning gaze. "I spotted an uninvited visitor."

Artie suddenly looked interested. "One of Dennis's men?"

Jim nodded, smiling at seeing Artemus finally got the man's ''name'' right. "He left the church through the back door; he seemed convinced that you where dead."

"Where did he lead you?" Artie asked, knowing Jim wouldn't pass up such an opportunity.

"I followed him down the main road and he turned down a small alley between the morgue and that old broken down bar we passed yesterday."

Artie nodded, knowing where Jim spoke of. "And?"

"When I turned the corner, he was gone."

Artie raised his eyebrows. "You lost him?"

Jim smiled. It was so much fun telling Artie stories. "Not quite."

Artemus looked puzzled. Jim continued. "I happened to cross the path of a trapped door and slid down a mine shaft."

Artie looked intrigued.

"At the bottom was an empty chamber, like the basement of an old building. And Artie," Jim stopped, looking down at his partner. "Artie, Dennis was down there.''

"You saw him!" Artie exclaimed, shocked and delighted, yet somewhat disappointed that he hadn't been there. In his excitement, Artie tried to sit up; sending a sharp pain through his chest. He gasped and dropped back down into his pillow.

"Artie!" Jim jumped up from his chair.

Artie lifted a hand, stopping Jim from mother-henning him. "I'm alright, Jim." He croaked, still wincing.

Jim sank back into his chair slowly.

"What did he look like?" Artie panted after a moment, still tightly closing his eyes and holding a hand to his chest.

"Well," Jim began, "He was about six foot, wore a green smoking jacket, had black hair, a lantern jaw, and a scare across his right cheek."

Artie's eyes suddenly popped open and he grew even paler -if at all possible- at the man's description. Jim jumped up to his feet again, worried.

"Artie, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Jim," Artie gasped, " I knew that man..."


End file.

Wild Wild West, Drama, Western